Holidaze

Remember last time I was telling you about how Alex wasn’t feeling well and had become clingy? Well, it’s back BIG time. He’s sick (four days until Christmas) and stuck to my side again complete with “I’m Sexy and I Know It” looping on the iPad. In fact, he just asked me to get his pants off the ceiling (apparently he flung his pants so high this time they got stuck on the ceiling fan). At least it knocked some of the dust bunnies off so I didn’t have to dust. There’s always a flipside to having an obsessive-compulsive miniature stripper…

This time he is joined by middle child Simon. Simon only has a little ear infection and cold but enough for him to also want mommy. So much so that the other night they invaded my room en masse. As some of you may have seen from the photo, not only did they invade, they claimed it as part of the Monkies Empire complete with a flag raising par to Iwo Jima. Long live the kings. Anyway, since they are both congested it sounded like a Darth Vader convention. Hubby Shelby is smart and hightailed it for the big comfy couch. No sleep for me for two nights, great photo for Facebook, two doctor’s visits, three prescriptions filled, and a partridge in a pear tree.

I also have to pause here to also reflect on my loser-parent-moment-of-the-day. While trying to corral my offspring, pay the bill, and get all the paperwork, a charming Asian couple came in with adorable twin daughters, about four years old, in matching party dresses. Not only are the girls polite and well-behaved, the parents are loaded down with a huge tray of gourmet pastries and a ginormous chocolate cake complete with ganache. If I searched hard enough, I might have had a piece of month-old gum in my purse but I don’t think that would have held up in the competition. Next, the violin playing darlings spring forth with “Happy Holidays!” in unison and them proceed to tell the good doctor “I love you!” What I failed to mention was that while they were saying it, they were also signing it. Apparently, sign language as well as violin are electives being taught at their preschool. The mother sees the miniature candy canes the doctor is giving out and asks if she can have two for the girls. The nurse asks if the girls like it to which the mom replies that they have been discussing candy canes are party of Christmas. Okay. Then is comes out that her girls don’t know how to eat candy because they are never given any because it causes cavities. This while I’m giving both my children their SECOND lollipop to keep them quiet. Let’s all say it together – EPIC FAIL!

And of course, we can’t leave my dear teenager out of the spotlight. You know that adage about cleanliness being close to G-dliness? If that statement is true, Christopher must be roommates with Beelzebub. He leaves a trail of food, packaging, clothing, books, etc. that rivals Hansel & Gretel. Not only is he a slob but has become the ring leader of the neighborhood pee-wee gang. While each of the members are relatively polite, moral, and ethical children; put them together and they collectively have the I.Q. of a butter dish. Prime example: at about 5:30 p.m. my neighbor, the mother of a few of the other members, appears at my door wanting “a word with me.” Oh crap! There are few words that strike fear in my hearts but those are at the top of my list – especially knowing my children like I do. Apparently, the lawn guy of another neighbor just finished spiffing up their yard before Christmas and three of the wee gangsters basically decimated the gravel driveway addition and he, rightly so, wanted them to fix it. I assured the good lady that they would be down tout de suite and walked her to the door. It took all I could to keep from wringing their necks ala Homer & Bart Simpson style. Instead I asked them in that whisper yell what in the hell they were thinking? Clearly, they weren’t!

As they scurried off to do the time for their crime, I tried to get Alex to sit tight in the warm house of which he wanted no part. Fine. We high off down to street to assess the damage. Let me just say an IED couldn’t have sprayed these little black granite rocks any further. They were all over the street, covering the concrete driveway, peppered throughout the lawn and flowerbeds – while I know it’s the season, I am truly convinced the miracle this year was that no windows were broken or eyes put out. Or that my two didn’t get potched till they couldn’t sit down! So the accused set out to right their wrong. With a little help from a couple of parental units, everything was righted. Even after their hard time and a good long, painful lecture, they are back at the video games in the comfort of their own living room. Little pishers!

If any of you out there are looking for the sentimental ending that I usually apply here, sorry – ain’t happenin’. There is nothing uplifting or endearing about the past few days. As I am writing this my two oldest miscreants are playing “Call of Duty: Black Ops.” The middle is acting as the strategist while the oldest is the implementing soldier and they are eerily on target and accurate. I don’t know if I should be afraid or apply camo face paint, find a strategic vantage point, and reload the Nerf gun. If I survive the invasion of the Monkies Empire over the next few days, I’ll keep you posted. Otherwise, send in the gendarmes and look for the next blog in exile…